


Gone Before Sunrise

by sapphicwritings



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Romance, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Requited Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, my attempt at slow burn actually, nothing too in detail tho, sapnap is the token single friend, your honor they’re in LOVE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicwritings/pseuds/sapphicwritings
Summary: He was fine with it; Dream’s his best friend. That’s what friends do, right? No strings attached hookups? And pretending it didn’t happen in the morning?In which a series of one night stands slowly turn into something more.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 69
Kudos: 407





	1. Rinse Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey ! this is my.. attempt at a slow burn fic and i’m way nervous bc this is my first time posting an rpf work ! so bare w me and ik y’all know their stances on fics abt them & such but you know the drill for stuff like this !!
> 
> it's a bit of a short start to the fic, but i promise they'll get longer after this, just wanted to set the scene yk?
> 
> without further ado, enjoy <3

Discarded clothes were scattered all over the speckled carpet and soft moonlight flooded into the room through thin beige curtains, shining a light onto the seemingly innocent scene within the apartment bedroom.

Two boys laid in the middle of the king sized bed, surrounded by a puffy comforter hastily thrown over them and a pile of pillows cushioning their heads. Soft breathing filled the room, although sleep was a distant memory for smaller one of the pair. 

George lied there, counting the seconds between Dream’s inhales and exhales, his hand carding through the dirty blond hair— it was messy and stuck up in all different directions, an obvious reminder of the events that had just transpired. That and the smattering of purple and pink bruises up George’s chest. His own mop of short brunet hair was a bit neater than Dream's, however not by much. 

He knew he had to go. That’s how it usually went. Dream uses him until he’s finished, George waits for Dream to fall asleep and then he slips out the door with shoes barely on. Day in, and day out. At least twice a week this was their routine.

He was fine with it; Dream’s his best friend. That’s what friends do, right? No strings attached hookups? And pretending it didn’t happen in the morning?

It was almost time for George to make his move. Twenty minutes was usually how long it took for Dream to fall asleep after a journey such as this, the blurry blue numbers of his bedside clock indicating such time had passed. 

George began his methodical escape, starting by peeling Dream’s arm off from across his stomach and untangling his hands from Dream’s locks. His next step was sliding away from his grasp and putting a pillow in its place, to which Dream had always held tightly and turned around to cuddle with. Tonight was no different.

His next move was maneuvering through the dark to find his soiled, yet walk-of-shame acceptable clothing without banging his knee on something or trampling over Dream’s cat, Patches. Too many close calls had caused George to memorize this room by heart, masterfully stepping through the room without a sound. Patches was softly purring in the corner, deep into her own cat-slumber. George wasn't sure when she had entered the space. He assumed it was after all the noise had stopped. It didn't matter, anyhow. She was a cute little thing and pretty much owned the taller boy's life, Patches did as she pleased.

Hoodie, underwear, pants, socks, and slid on but untied shoes. George had class. He wore shoes on his walk-of-shame home. George never left any of his things at Dream’s place. Not even a sock. That was too much. He’d rather be of the opinion that these escapades were all within his dreamscape and weren’t real. Both boys knew that wasn’t true, but he’d rather not have any indication of his presence. Dream didn’t need that, anyhow. Stress relievers don’t stick around once they’ve been used. They’re stuffed into the back of a drawer and wait for next time. Rinse, wash, dry, repeat.

Next step was palming around for his phone, keys, and wallet that were lost in the commotion. They usually ended up on the side table or somewhere on the floor by Dream’s side of the bed. Tonight they were on the side table. A personal win— George didn’t want to get on the floor. His knees hurt enough. 

A verbal goodnight was the last step before the great escape, however that was optional. It depended on the hour and how tired George was feeling. Tonight was not a _“Goodnight, Clay,”_ kind of night. The phrase has a curse on it, anyways; almost every time he’s whispered that out loud, Dream either responds or he gets a text an hour later asking where he went. It's not like Dream should care where he went anyways. He’s got George's address and they attend the same university. He always knows where he went. 

He never knew why Dream asked where he was in the morning, it could be common courtesy or it could be just genuine curiosity. George never dwelled on it too long, the answer was always the same anyways. Dream cared about where he was as friend. _Just_ a friend. George was fine with that too, he never wanted to date Dream anyways. This relationship was a win-win, casual sex with a best friend that you don’t have to talk about. It worked perfectly.

George slipped out the front door, softly clicking it closed before locking it with the key Dream always left under his welcome mat. Really, it’s a terrible placement for a spare key, if you ask him, but Dream would never move it no matter how much he and Sapnap bullied him about it. He slid the key back under and kicked the mat back into place in front of the white door. George did the one tap goodbye on the door he does when it isn't a _"Goodnight, Clay,"_ kind of night. He figured slipping out unheard was a bit of a dick move, considering their friendship, and even if Dream didn't hear the tap, George did. As long as _someone_ heard him leaving, even if it was he himself, it made him feel better.

The elevator ride was quiet, the squeaking gears echoing across the empty halls. A ding notified he was in the lobby, and he silently exited through the double doors to a welcoming chill from the fall air. Pulling the hood over his head, George began the short walk to his and Sapnap's apartment building. He hoped— no, _prayed_ — the Texan boy wasn’t awake because the idea of another conversation about their scandalous relationship at this hour was dreadful to George.

Day in, and day out. It’s like he was never there. The only ever sign the new bruises covering ones faded, and he liked it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s/o to my close irl friend nic aka cleopatras (her ao3 is in the comments!) who beta’d this fic and let me talk her entire ear off about how much i would lay down my life for the dream smp
> 
> please check out her work hold me close (it’s bookmarked on my page & ive been beta-ing it for her) !! it’s so good i would recommend


	2. Where Were You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a rare look into how they interact in the daytime, Dream asks the same old question and George gives the same old answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg here i am.. with a pretty boring chap i'd like to apologize
> 
> more interesting things will begin to pick up i promise !

George sat idly in class, waiting for it to begin and trying his hardest to pretend he didn’t get home at three in the morning last night. He absentmindedly typed in the open notes document on his laptop, cursing the professor for having their algorithms lecture so goddamn early. Who needed to learn numbers at 10:30 AM, anyway? Certainly not he.

Looking around at the mostly full class, George noticed a certain 6’4” green-eyed boy was missing. Dream never missed a class, especially after their little meetings. Where could the guy possibly be? Class began in five minutes. Letting out a breath, he heard the lecture hall door open and shut with a loud click. There he was.

“Never fear, for Dream is here!” George whispered to himself. If he could show up to class on time, Dream could too.

Dream shuffled his way up the stairs and slid into the seat next to George, hurriedly pulling out all his materials for class.

“You’re never late,” George teases, side-eyeing Dream. He wore an untucked button-up shirt and straight leg pants. His hair was freshly dried and framed his face in curtains. George wanted to touch it. He never got to experience the soft, soapy smelling hair; he only ever got to see the dishevelled, tangled mess it was after hours. George pulled his gaze away from the boy, multi-tasking the conversation and copying today’s lesson.

“Long night,” Dream huffed, a shit-eating grin following.

“Yeah,” George scoffed, “I’ll bet.”

“Wouldn’t even know the half of it,” Dream inhaled sharply, his slender fingers clicking away at his laptop.

George shook his head and continued to type, cracking his neck, immediately hissing at the sting from the bruised skin being pulled taut. He ran a hand up his chest soothingly, hoping it would work to make the prickles underneath his skin lessen. Dream let a small snicker out from under his breath, poking at his collarbones mockingly and pulling a face that said  _ “Boohoo!” _

George responded by reaching over and mashing his hand all over Dream’s keyboard, filling his notes page with random letters and characters, effectively ruining his typing train of thought. Dream sighed loudly, kicking George softly in the shin with his sneakers, and got to work selecting and deleting the text chunks. George smirked to himself. A small victory, one could say. Ruining Dream’s day for about ten seconds in exchange for a week of tender skin.

Eventually, the lecture was over and George barely noticed. He spent the entire time silently tormenting Dream in the back of the hall and really only tuned in when the professor had released everyone. He sighed and closed his laptop, the embarrassingly empty notes page taunting him as the screen closed. Dream stood up, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder and waited for George. Usually after their 10:30 together, they grabbed a snack at the cafe across campus and then split off for their afternoon duties. Dream was checking what he had missed during class on his phone, his spare hand running lazily through his sun-kissed hair. 

George didn’t miss the stares of some of the girls in their class, what with their not-so-inconspicuous head nods towards Dream’s towering figure and the behind-hand giggles that followed as they shuffled out of class. He forgot that Dream was somewhat of a heartthrob in the CompSci department. Didn’t help that he dressed like a guy right out of the high school romance films. He wonders if they would get jealous if they knew what he and Dream did when the sun set. He wonders if Dream even notices them. Maybe George wanted them to get jealous. What a rush that would be.

George pulled his bag over his shoulder and nodded when Dream asked if he was ready to go. Silently they began their walk to the cafe. It was embarrassing, almost, to George; being seen in the daylight with Dream. There was something that felt just so wrong interacting with him outside of when they’re in the moonlight. He liked it that their relationship had no strings attached, don’t get him wrong, he does. Though it doesn’t mean he can’t feel dirty keeping a secret. Maybe he was being irrational. He tends to flicker back and forth between loving and hating their arrangement. Right now, he was loving it. But just barely.

“Where were you this morning?”

Ah, there it was. That same question that makes George take back everything he thought last night and just now. That same question that makes him want to bang his head into the nearest pole.

“You know where I was.” George gives his same old response. Nothing new, nothing special about it either. Hookups don’t stick around when and where they aren’t wanted. It was ridiculous for Dream to want George to stay anyway. He thinks Dream keeps asking for his own safety. There were many downsides to walking across town at the wee hours of the morning, he knew that.

“I know,” Dream responds, holding the door of the cafe open for George.

“If you know, then stop asking,” George responded softly, sliding past his slender figure to step into the restaurant.

“I won’t.” Dream shut the door behind them. That was the truth; they both knew it. He would never stop asking where he went in the morning. Sometimes he wished Dream was just a little bit dumber. But only a little. Okay, maybe a lot. George was kind of getting sick of his one plus one equals window jokes. 

There they sat, usual orders placed in front of them (Dream always got a croissant— George a cinnamon roll) and chatting away about the lives they didn’t share with each other— their daytime beings. Dream explains a new coding project he’s started and George nods along, casually throwing in a jab or two about how he sucks at coding. George will talk about how his current computer science project makes him want to perish and Dream will make those stupid fucking kissy faces at him, complaining that he, quote  _ “Can’t die! Who will I get croissants and gossip with?” _ To which George would tell him that Sapnap is still alive, and exists. Dream will flash his pearly whites with a laugh and George will smile along. Same old, same old.

Dream’s phone quietly let out a chime, signifying he had ten minutes before his next class began. George had that sound memorized by heart, and could always tell when it was going to go off minutes before it did. Call it a sixth sense. Dream let out a breath, silencing his phone and picking it up.

“That’s me,” Dream stood up and brushed off his pants. “Duty calls.”

“Calculus?”

“That’s my duty, yes,” 

George rolled his eyes.

“Loser.”

“Whatever,” Dream waved a hand towards him lazily, brushing off George’s insult.

George followed suit, gathering his own items to head to the library for a work day. Well, to be more candid, a play games and maybe work on his overwhelming amounts of papers kind of day. That’s between him and whatever higher powers there were to decide.

Dream held the door open for George, and they stood at the sidewalk together to say goodbye before they split off.

“See you tonight? Same time?” Dream adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, as if the question wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“Needy much?” George sighed. “Just saw me not even twelve hours ago,”

Dream shrugged.

“I’ll see you tonight, then.” Dream began to walk away, knowing George’s answer before it left his mouth.

“Yeah, you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chap is set in the daytime !! i'm p sure most of this fic will take place at night for.. yk.. plot purposes and stuff ! so that's why this was a little boring and i apologize if yall thought such !!
> 
> anywho i made a playlist for this fic which you can find [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/05q68pe27Kvz7VnSWY3rIQ?si=WDMbO5A0RZG3Z5klW4xNhQ) 🙇🏻🙇🏻


	3. Invisible Artwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the second night in a row spent together, George starts his career as an invisible artist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this came out later than i intended!! mcc was yesterday and then the streamys and i had a paper to finish after that so you know how it goes
> 
> sometimes your saturday just gets away from you bc you spent four hours of your time watching mcc and switching between like three diff livestreams at once with your friend

George felt déjà vu. Here he was again, cradled in the arms of the STEM department heartthrob, hands tangled up in his hair and clothes discarded around the room. Tonight, the comforter was piled up at their feet and they both only wore a pair of sweatpants. Dream wore the sweatpants with a Florida Gators logo on it, which George always teases him about. He knows absolutely nothing about American football, but he knows Dream doesn’t like the Gators. Who wears sweatpants with an emblem on it that you don’t even like? This has brought many in-depth conversations about Dream’s personal stakes in football; George just has to smile and nod along.

He let out a sigh, counting the fifteenth minute since they settled down. Dream was about five minutes from falling asleep for the night and George could leave again. George couldn’t have been feeling déjà vu, though. Tonight was different. Soft music was emitting from a speaker on Dream’s side of the bed; last night was just the shifting of bodies, quiet breathing, and George’s thoughts.

Dream only played music when his mind was too loud and he could only focus on one thing at a time. The current song stopped, and there were a few seconds of buzzing silence before the next one played. The opening chords began, and George immediately recognized the song as _Burning Pile_ by Mother Mother. He let out a sharp exhale to laugh, Dream must be going through a lot right now. What does he know, anyhow? Dream never really let him in on his internal monologue all too often. 

Distracted by his thoughts, he stopped his gentle rubbing of Dream’s scalp, to which the boy gently rubbed his head into George’s hand— wordlessly asking him to keep going. George rolled his eyes, and continued to run his hands through the soft locks.

“Are you going to stay tonight?” Dream muttered quietly, moving his face to look to the ceiling, as if a direct gaze would’ve made the question too uncomfortable to answer. 

The silence was broken. The unspokenly agreed upon, post-sex quietude. Was Dream trying to embody the song playing? Was this one of his troubles? Surely there wasn’t a smile on his face when asking George that question.

“Don’t think so,” George sighed. Dream turned his head back towards George and sunk deeper into the pillow pile. George’s hand never left his hair.

“Wait til’ I’m asleep?” 

“I usually do.”

Dream nodded, arms tightening around George’s chest, sweatpants-clad legs curling up into himself. _Burning Pile_ ended and next played _affection_ by BETWEEN FRIENDS. Sheesh, what was Dream going through? Maybe he’d ask in the morning when there weren’t other things to be distracted by, such as having to restart the count to twenty minutes or the fact that Dream looked so peaceful when he slept.

George stared at the ceiling, his hand moving from Dream’s hair to absentmindedly drawing patterns into the arm he had draped across George’s chest. Soon enough, twenty minutes had passed and Dream’s breathing evened out, little snores coming out every so often.

He stayed still, continuing to listen to Dream’s breathing and drawing patterns into his arms. He had just finished a sunrise over the water, lightly brushing his hand over the length of Dream’s veiny arm to erase the drawing. The next drawing he was starting on was a garden full of five-petaled flowers. And some bees. Can’t forget those little guys. They’re essential to a garden! Plus, why would he leave when Dream had _just_ fallen asleep? That would wake him up again, and George had already made the mistake of leaving too early last night. He also couldn’t leave his garden scene unfinished; George wanted to give Van Gogh a run for his money with this invisible art.

More than an hour must’ve passed by before George finished his _very_ in-detail and _very_ abstract garden. He figured it should be time to go, glancing over at the taller boy’s sleeping form. He was far enough into sleep that George could leave unnoticed, he thinks. He slowly and softly made his escape in the usual order he does. Peeling away from Dream’s warm body, clothing himself, and grabbing his items. As he tied his shoes, Patches trotted her way through the door, stopping to rub her face on George’s leg. He smiled and gave her a scratch behind the ears, before patting her gently to keep moving.

Patches padded her way across the room, ignoring her bed in the corner and jumping up onto the bed to curl into the small space between Dream’s knees and stomach to sleep with the boy. George had half a mind to take a photo. Blackmail material, and totally not because it looked so sweet. Definitely not. Standing up, George was ready to go, but he felt as if he was forgetting to do something. 

Ah, that’s right. Dream’s speaker was still playing music. He tiptoed his way over to the speaker, turning it off with a click and ridding the room of soft melodies, the absence being replaced with Patches’ soft purrs. George stood at the bedside for a moment, admiring— no, _examining_ — Dream’s blue-painted features in the rays of moonlight that filled the room. His light freckles that danced their way across his face, the perfectly curved eyebrows (that he is _convinced_ Dream plucks and shapes, no matter how much he denies the claim), and his button nose.

Without thinking, George leans down and presses a soft kiss to Dream’s temple. That would be his _“Goodnight, Clay,”_ for tonight. He couldn’t risk interrupting the boy’s peaceful sleep with clunky words. Standing up, he waited a moment to make sure his breathing wasn’t interrupted before he could leave.

When he was sure, he made his way out of the dark apartment, locking the door and doing his one tap on the wood. Walking to the elevator, he pulled his phone out to a text from Sapnap.

 _it’s more than just hookups, isnt it?_ The text read, and George sighed quietly, pressing the lobby button as he responded to the text with one hand.

 _wanted 2 make sure he was asleep, he played music. means hes going through a lot rn._ He replied, watching as the typing bubble showed up on Sapnap’s end.

 _its more than just hookups._ Was his text back. George let out an exasperated sigh.

“You don’t know that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i'm gonna write a dnf fic to distract myself from finals bc college boring
> 
> also me: yeah but what if i made it a little too homoerotic? how fucked up would that be.. gonna do it anyways
> 
> not to plug my spotify playlist for this fic again but pls give it a [listen](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/05q68pe27Kvz7VnSWY3rIQ?si=sB521BMzQ7mEtnKlV_XAfA) if you'd like ! i'm kinda proud of it 😳😳 + nic just came out w/ a karlnap fic you can find [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28057395/chapters/68737710) !! please check it out it goes hard so far


	4. Time And Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sapnap weighs in on George's current conundrum, and Dream is having problems with math.

_need help studying for our algorithms final, come over?_ Was the text that came through to George’s phone. The boy set his pen down, glancing at his lit up screen. Swiping up, he read the text and hovered over the keyboard, trying to craft a response. He eyed Sapnap, who was seemingly neck-deep into his statistics homework. Staring back down at his phone, the gray text bubble burned into his eyes. 

“Don’t go,” Sapnap quietly called from the other side of the table.

“Go where?” George sighed. To this, Sapnap merely dropped his head into his work, a dull thud resonating in the room.

“My _God_ , you’re dumb.” Sapnap muttered, sound muffled on account of him speaking right into the spine of a textbook.

Before George could shoot back a rude response, his phone elicited another muted buzz.

_you can say no haha, the material is just too hard_

_i can probs do it myself_

George typed a response before the Texan kid across the way from him could stop his hands.

 _no no ur good lmao! was j talking 2 sap!!_ He hit send, watching the _“Delivered”_ immediately switch to _“Read”_. Dream typed a response that told George to come over whenever he was available, and George thumbs-upped the message. Standing from the table, Sapnap raised his head from the book and let out a sigh, rubbing at the blush pink mark on his forehead.

“Might wanna ice that, Sap.” George teased, closing and gathering all his materials, shoving them back into his bag.

“Ice this,” Sapnap shot back, fake spitting in George’s direction.

“Dream already does that, nice try.”

“ _Dude_? Fucking ew!” Sapnap covered his eyes in revolt, shooing George out of the dining room in disgust with his other hand. George bounded out of the room, his laugh following his way to his bedroom. George grabbed all his necessities and pulled on his usual sneakers. Sliding his way through the dining room, he grabbed his bag off the chair and slipped out the front door. Sapnap was blankly staring at George, following his movements as he made his way out of the apartment. George jokingly blew a kiss at him and in response Sapnap cocked his head to the side to dodge the offense.

“I give you guys two or three weeks before you start getting serious or else I’m deleting your coding projects,” Sapnap called after the boy as the door was beginning to close.

“You wouldn’t dare, Mr. Nap,” George retorted, before closing the door fully and locking it.

George was at Dream’s apartment within the hour. 

Perched up on Dream’s bed, notebooks and study guides surrounding him, George watched Dream’s hunched figure at his desk scribbling down numbers and equations into his notes. Soft music came from the speakers, and Patches was lying quietly in the corner. The scene looked all too domestic for George’s liking.

Looking back down to his notes, his eyebrows furrowed at the current problem he was working on. Fuck if he knew what the answer was, honestly. As he was about to paw through his notes to find the examples, he heard a frustrated sigh from across the room. George looked up to see Dream’s head tilted back, annoyance painting his face. His eyes drifted down to the curves of his neck, but quickly went back up to the boy’s face. Eyes are up here, as they always say.

“Something up?” George asked tenderly, thinking too loud a noise would frustrate the boy further.

“I just, like, can’t get this problem right. It’s so hard!” Dream exclaimed, and George silently got up and stood at Dream’s side at the desk.

“Let me see, maybe I can help.” George leaned down to Dream’s eye level, scanning the problem and smiling gently at the scribbles and crossed out math across the page. Usually Dream’s penmanship was much neater— who knew a math problem could frustrate him this much. George reached over Dream’s form without permission, pointing out his mistakes.

“You forgot to carry the one, genius.” George exhaled sharply through his nose to laugh, and Dream’s face turned from annoyed to something that can only be described as a breakthrough. Dream wiped a hand along his face.

“I’m so stupid!” Dream groaned, picking his pen back up.

“Glad we can both agree on that,” George said as he was about to return back to his spot on the bed, before Dream snaked his left arm around George’s waist, barring him from leaving. He turned and looked back at Dream quizzically.

“Stay for a sec, so you can tell me if I start doing it wrong.” Dream didn’t look up from his work. George shrugged, and stood back at Dream’s side. His arm didn’t leave the brunet boy’s waist. George watched Dream’s slender fingers work through the problem, trying his hardest to pay attention to the hasty black numbers dancing across the page. Once he made it to the answer, George quickly unrolled himself from Dream’s arm with a confirming nod, and a condescending _“Good job!”_ pat on the head. George shuffled over to Dream’s bed, suddenly overwhelmed by the contact around his waist, missing the way Dream’s hand subconsciously reached out to find George after he had left.

Drowning himself in work, George tried to forget the burning that edged across his waist and stopped paying attention to the blond boy across the way. Methodically making his way through his notes, he barely noticed the bed dipping next to him and Dream sitting a little too close to George. Their arms brushed slightly with George’s every motion.

“Don’t you still have work?” George side-eyed Dream, whose face was painted with a sleepy smile. He cuddled a small navy blue pillow to his chest as he sat there.

“Nope, all done. Naptime now,” Dream yawned.

“It’s five o’clock,”

“So?”

“Okay, then nap.” George rolled his eyes with a smile. Dream nodded slightly, before shifting to lay on his side in fetal position and placing his head in the pocket of George’s crossed legs, arms cuddling the small pillow tighter to himself. 

“Wh—” Dream was already snoring away. George let out a defeated exhale, unable to believe Dream took up the free real estate of his lap and fell asleep before he could protest. George froze for a second, staring dead into the relaxed face of Dream. What was happening to his life? He felt like he was in an episode of _The Twilight Zone_. Except there were no pig-nosed people.

Now trapped in nap prison, George tried to work over the sleeping boy without shifting or disrupting him too much. Eventually finding it too hard to turn a page without coming _this_ close to paper cutting Dream’s button nose, he gave up and closed everything. Stacking the materials into a small tower, he reached as far as he could to set them on the ground beside the bed with a quiet thump. 

George leaned back with his arms out behind him, looking down at the boy who was softly snoring away in his lap. How did he get here? Why was it so hard to say no? Who the hell gave Dream the right to invade his space in this way? He hopes Dream likes the feeling of jeans as a pillow. It’s going to give him one hell of a facial indent when he wakes up. 

_“I give you guys two or three weeks before you start getting serious, or else I’m deleting your coding projects,”_ Sapnap’s nagging voice begins to seep into George’s thoughts.

 _“It’s more than just hookups, isn’t it?”_ The voice once again invades his thoughts, beginning to carve itself into the very core of George’s heart. What did George really want? Does he want to continue keeping Dream at an arm’s distance?

This was too much for six o’clock at night.

Instead of mulling over his conflicting thoughts, he allowed himself to indulge in the peaceful moment and tangled his hands into Dream’s soft locks, gently massaging his head as he napped. Dream seemed to like this, as his sleeping form shifted deeper into the bed and instead of tightly hugging the pillow to him, his arms released and he was loosely cuddling it. George’s bottom lip jut out at the innocent motion from Dream. This boy was going to be the death of him.

George let out an exhausted sigh, finals week wasn’t the time to be debating his own relationships. Giving way to the sleep that threatened to take over his own body, he rested his head on the free hand not laced up in Dream’s scalp and let himself nap with the boy. There was always a time and a place for things, and this could wait, he decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys i'm so sorry this was posted so much later than chap 3 omg i finished finals week for my college and tbh after that mess i just needed to not be a person for a few days, yk the vibe
> 
> also!! i appreciate all the comments you guys leave they genuinely make me smile or laugh bc some of yall are so unhinged sometimes HAHAHAH
> 
> hope you enjoyed this homoerotic mess of a chap tho 😌😌


End file.
